Detergent
by Yitz
Summary: In this parody of "Divergent," young Beatrix Myer lives in a post-apocalyptic future where people are organized into different cliques. How will Beatrix, with her special and unique personality, fit in to this rigid system?
1. Chapter 1

My name is Beatrix Myer and I live in a fabulous country called post-apocalyptic Chicago. I'm 16 years old, which is kind of a totally huge deal because this is the last year I'm going to be living with my parents. You see, in post-apocalyptic Chicago (or PAC as I like to call it), we've been divided into five groups, or cliques. Each one of these cliques serves a very specific purpose in society to make sure everything runs smoothly. Also, you're not really allowed to interact with people outside your own clique, which makes sense because it's obvious that forcibly preventing family and friends from seeing each other is a good way to maintain peace.

Anywaysies, I grew up in a clique called Alteration. We're called that because we sew clothes for people, and we're also supposed to be really selfless and generous and whatever. But when you're 16, AKA the age I am now, you take a personality test and then you get to decide which clique you want to live in. The test tells you which one is actually best for you, but if you're a picky little snowflake who thinks you're smarter than tried and true methods, you can choose a different one, and no one will judge you.

The reason we live this way is because after the apocalypse, the few human beings remaining figured that since there weren't too many people around, we'd have to take on more responsibility than ever before and dividing people into cliques would not only help make sure that happened, but it would also ensure that there would be peace and no more horrible wars like the one that caused the apocalypse in the first place. Now, if you're somehow magically reading this in the past, you might be wondering what the details of the apocalypse are so that you can stay safe. Well, no problem. I can give you some tips. First of all, you'll _definitely _survive if...

...Sorry, I think I dozed off there. What was I saying? Hmm. Well, I'm sure it was nothing important. Anyway, I know you're just dying to hear about the other cliques in PAC, right? The coolest one is called Army. The people in it are like a regular army, except that instead of wearing camouflage, they wear leather bathing suits and boots. It's very "chic," I guess. Secretly, I've always wished I could be in that clique because it seems like a real fiesta.

Another clique is called TTYL. It stands for "Tell the Truth, You Loser." They're really big on honesty, so they run our court system. I don't think it gets much use though because usually when someone commits a crime, an Army person will come and give them a stern talking to. Ha ha, I'm only joking. They usually just break one of the perpetrator's limbs. So we don't have too much crime in PAC, as you can imagine.

There's this other clique called Snobs-R-Us. They're very intelligent and are dedicated to the pursuit of knowledge. They dress pretty fancy, but I'm sure it's not because they think they're better than the rest of us or something. Also, they wear a lot of blue for some reason. My mom says it's because blue is a very thinning color, but there's no one around in PAC who's overweight because our food supply is limited. So if you're currently living somewhere with a 35% obesity rate, at least you have one thing to look forward to.

The last clique is called Rainbow Sparkle Sunshine. The people in it are very happy, peaceful, and optimistic. They're in charge of planting, growing, and harvesting all the food we eat. Their clothes are like the ugliest things I've ever seen, but since my clique creates them, I guess we deserve the blame. But it's great that there are so many cheerful people in our society. They really give me hope for the future, and also I'm glad they have to do most of the manual labor around here.

Today I'm taking my personality test to see which clique I belong in. We're all lining up outside this big building. Because of our different outfits, it's really easy to tell the cliques apart. The only weird thing is that the Army doesn't seem to be here. I wonder for a moment if they're going to do something wild and crazy. But they don't. Instead, they just jump out of a moving train as usual. Upon seeing this, some of the Snobs-R-Us roll their eyes but then go back to typing on calculators or having debates about string theory. Someone from TTYL asks, "Did that _honestly_ just happen?" No one from Alteration says anything because we don't speak unless spoken to, or if we hear someone use the word "cross-stitching."

When it's my turn to be tested, I go inside the room and look around. The walls are all mirrors, and I can't help but be attracted to them since mirrors are illegal for Alteration people. One time I caught my reflection in a piece of broken glass on the street, though, so I already know that I'm a big hottie. While I'm admiring my luscious caramel locks, this girl interrupts me by saying, "It's time for your test, Beatrix." I turn around and glance at her. She's obviously from Army, judging from her shiny black outfit, and also from the big nametag she wears that says "Maggie - Army."

"Hi Maggie," I say with a grin.

"Sit in the chair and put the headphones on, please," Maggie replies. I look over and see there's a metal folding chair in the middle of the room with a pair of headphones on it. I follow her instructions and take a seat there. "We used to use La-Z-Boys for these tests but we've had some budget cuts this year, so... sorry about that," Maggie tells me.

"We don't even have chairs with backs in Alteration," I inform her. "This is actually a pretty big step up."

"Oh, OK. Well, you need to drink this now." Maggie hands me a shot glass full of blue liquid.

"Thanks, but I'd rather do this sober," I say back.

"No, no, this is the liquid that starts the test."

I take a whiff. It smells a lot like dishwashing soap, but Maggie might cut off one of my legs if I don't drink it, so I comply and down the whole shot. The last words I hear before blacking out are "You only needed to take a sip..."

When I come to, I'm in the same room, except the chair and Maggie are gone. At first I wonder why she would do something so rude, but then I realize that this is actually the personality test, because there's a huge, growling dog in front of me! What am I going to do? Luckily, there are some tools nearby, but before I can grab one, I hear a scream. It's a little girl, and now the dog is going after her instead of me. Seeing my chance, I pick up a slab of meat from the available tools. "Catch!" I yell, and throw the meat to the little girl. Like an idiot, she catches it, and the dog immediately attacks her, having completely lost interest in me. Phew! I'm safe. Apparently that was the whole test because soon I find myself back in the real world.

Maggie doesn't look too happy, and she just says, "OK, your test is finished."

"But wait! What was my result?"

She leans in close to me and whispers. "Beatrix, you have to keep this a secret, but... you're divergent."

"Oh no!" I exclaim in horror, because I remember just then that I forgot to wear my lucky underwear. "Sorry, what did you say?"

"I said you're divergent," she repeats, this time a tiny bit louder.

"I'm what?"

"Divergent."

I still can't really understand her. I figure there might be some wax clogging my ears, since in Alteration we're supposed to spend all our time helping other people and only one day a month is dedicated to personal hygiene. Sometimes I skip so I can save water for the poor. But since cotton swabs are considered a beauty item and we're not allowed makeup at all, the only time I get to clean my ears is when my brother Cable sneaks some supplies in from a different clique. I know he doesn't get them from Army, because they see regular bathing as a sign of weakness, and it's also probably not Rainbow Sparkle Sunshine because they're always working in the fields and there's not much point in cleaning yourself when you're going to get dirty again really soon. Also, they don't care a lot about appearances because they think inner beauty is all that matters. Blech. So I guess that means he's getting the goods from either Snobs-R-Us or TTYL. I'm pretty sure it's Snobs-R-Us, though, because TTYL probably wouldn't participate in something as dishonest as smuggling. Suddenly I realize none of this has anything to do with what Maggie is trying to tell me. "What?" I say again.

"You're divergent!" She hisses, obviously trying to avoid raising her voice.

"I'm detergent?"

"You're _divergent_, you idiot! You're divergent!" Maggie yells at the top of her lungs.

Good thing these walls are soundproof, ha ha. Or else I'd probably be getting choked to death right now. That's because being divergent is considered a terrible thing, though I'm not really sure why. Maybe it's because we live in a society based on collectivism and conformity, and any deviation from that is a threat to the philosophy we hold so dear. But no one knows for sure. To be honest, I really never thought I of all people would be divergent. It means that you're talented in more than one area so you don't fit into just one clique, and no one has ever called me talented. Well, actually, one of my PE teachers did, but that was while I was doing rhythmic gymnastics and unfortunately there's no clique based on that. "So what should I do?" I ask Maggie.

"I'll say your test result was Alteration. Then you'll be safe."

"Thanks," I reply. It's so heartwarming to see the risk Maggie is taking to help prevent me from getting killed. I mean, we're both competing, so it'd be understandable for her to _want_ to see me die. After all, there can only be one winner of the Hunger Games, and- oh. Wait a second. What am I talking about? I'm not in the Hunger Games. Those are in post-apocalyptic New Jersey. My bad.

"You should go home through the back door," Maggie tells me. "If anyone asks what happened, just say you got sick from the serum. And make sure you never tell _anybody_ you're Divergent. Ever!"

"No problem, girlfriend," I say, and head out through the back door like I'm supposed to.

When I get home there's no one there because my parents are at work and my brother is still at school. I realize this is my chance to raid the fridge, but then I remember that my dad gave it away to a homeless guy the other day. He didn't seem too appreciative, though. He just kept saying, "Can I have some food instead? Or some food to put in here? Actually, I have no access to power. So can I just have some food?" But obviously the cliqueless homeless people are insane. There's no use listening to them.

Instead of raiding the fridge, I raid the other food storage place we still have: the pantry. I guess it's my mom's shopping day because the only thing inside is some dried cat food. I'm not sure why it's here, since we don't have a cat. No one in Alteration has pets. It's considered selfish, and besides, fur is best used as a trim on coats, not to warm the bodies of small mammals who don't belong to any clique. One time I made a coat out of skunk fur but my parents said no one would buy it since it smelled like a skunk. So I gave it away to a cliqueless girl my age. She already stank anyway, but this way she could stink in style.

But the truth is, I didn't really _want_ to give that girl my skunk coat. I wanted to keep it for myself. I figured after a few washes it would probably smell fine and then I could wear it without having the aroma of a skunk's rear end. Of course it was black and white, which is basically the same thing as gray, so I thought I might be able to get away with it. But my parents told me a coat like that was too flamboyant for someone in Alteration and that I had to give it away. I remember I considered hiding it in the basement with Cable's bong collection and cotton swabs, but I realized that even if I did that, I'd never actually get to wear it, so I figured I'd better just do what my parents said. That was the day I realized I don't really like being in Alteration. Yes, fine couture will always have a place in my heart, but what's the point if all I get to wear is ugly gray rags? Plus, I hate touching homeless people, so that's a problem. I wonder if I should choose a different clique. I think that being Divergent means my personality is compatible with any clique, or something. But what's in my heart?

While I stand in the kitchen, still not sure why there's cat food in our cupboard, I can see my brother is on his way home. He's walking slowly, which means he must be with his girlfriend who's also my friend or whatever I guess. I forgot her name pretty early on, so in my mind I always just call her Pumpkin. We're not really supposed to have romantic relationships this young in Alteration, but when Cable and Pumpkin went out for the first time, he told my parents anyway. Astonishingly, they didn't seem too upset about him going on a date, and just said "we're surprised it's with a girl," whatever that's supposed to mean. I bet Cable is inviting Pumpkin over right now, because welcoming people into your home is a very Alteration thing to do. Also they'd use it as an opportunity to make out in his bedroom for a while. I mean, probably. I don't know what they do. It's not like I once stood outside the door and spied on them for an hour. Why would I do that? I didn't.

Anyway, it turns out Pumpkin isn't coming over today because Cable enters our house alone. "Hey sis," he says when he sees me. "Why is there cat food in the pantry?"

"I don't know, I was trying to figure that out myself."

"Oh. Well, how did your test go?"

"Fine," I tell him. "I'm div-" I start to tell Cable that I'm Divergent, but then I remember what Maggie said about not revealing it to anyone. Then I remember a big zit Maggie had above her eyebrow, which is a great way to distract myself from thinking about the fact that if anyone finds out I'm Divergent they'll probably try to kill me.

"You're what?"

"I'm div-ing. Diving into my future." _Nice save, Beatrix,_ I think to myself.

"You can't go diving," Cable says. "You know the lake dried up years ago."

"I'm not literally going to go diving," I explain. "It's just symbolism."

"I don't know what the heck you're talking about," Cable replies. Then he takes the box of cat food and goes off to his room.

My mind is filled with so many mysteries. How did I end up being Divergent? What clique should I choose? Why is my brother eating cat food? I wish I had some guidance from my parents, but I'm not really supposed to ask them questions. If I were, I'd ask them if it would be OK for me to switch to a different clique. My father would definitely say no, but my mom's a little more open-minded, so I think she'd be alright with it. It's not like they can stop me or anything, because everyone is free to choose whatever clique they want to be in, but a lot of the time when people transfer, their parents end up hating their guts. We have a saying in PAC: "Clique before all those people you're related to." They keep thinking of some way to reword it that'll roll off the tongue better, but so far they haven't come up with anything.

Tomorrow I'll have to make an important decision: stay in the clique where I was raised but I don't belong, or change to a clique where I can let my true colors shine and blossom into the woman I'm destined to become? I just don't know what to do. I imagine some other universe where people don't have to fit into cliques and can just be themselves, but obviously that's impossible. The clique system is clearly a much better way of life, so I'm thankful for it.

Then I lie down on my mattress and pass out for a healthy 16 hours.


	2. Chapter 2

When I wake up the next day, there's a pain in my stomach. Like an idiot, I went to bed last night without eating dinner! How did that happen? I wonder why my parents or Cable didn't wake me up, but I guess it wouldn't be very selfless to disturb someone else's sleep. Or maybe they forgot I was alive.

It turns out to be the former because when I walk downstairs, my mother has already set out a bowl of porridge for me. Naturally there's no brown sugar or maple syrup or jam (etcetera) for me to add to it, because we're not supposed to be too concerned about our food tasting delicious. So we eat a lot of stuff like plain oatmeal, plain potatoes, plain pasta... actually, just stick the word "plain" in front of any food that comes to mind, and it's probably acceptable in our diet. Thankfully, we got to eat more flavorful meals in the form of school lunches, since they're the same for all cliques. The kids from the other cliques always complained about the food, though. While I spoon the tasteless goop into my mouth, I think about how switching to another clique means I can eat yummier food, so that's another point to consider. In fact, the only thing on the pro-Alteration side is that my family is here.

"Good morning, Beatrix," my father says as he walks downstairs.

"Yo, daddy-o. What's poppin?" I reply, since I woke up feeling hip today.

"You're not supposed to ask us questions," he tells me.

"Oh, whoopsies," I say, and quickly take another bite of my porridge because there's not really anything else to say.

"It's OK. You've only done that about fifty times in the past week, so it's not a big issue. That leads me to my next point - the Clique Pick Shindig today."

I nod. "Yes, what is it?"

"You're not supposed to ask us questions," my father says again. "But whatever. The point is, I want you to know that I will never love you again if you choose another clique."

"He's just kidding," my mom says warmly.

"Haha, yes, of course I am," my father says, but then mouths the words "No I'm not" to me.

After breakfast, my family and I walk to the building where the Clique Pick Shindig is being held. It used to house something called a "strip club," but no one seems to know what that is. Anyway, it had the perfect architecture for the ceremony because there's a big stage in the middle surrounded by seats. As we walk in, I can see everything's been set up: on the stage there's a table with five bowls on it. Inside each bowl is a substance that represents a clique. Army is represented by cuts of meat that didn't sell, because the people in Army are as tough as old beef jerky. Snobs-R-Us is represented by shiny jewels, but I'm sure it's not because they think they're better than the rest of us or something. Rainbow Sparkle Sunshine is represented by buttons that say "Live, Laugh, Love." on them, so I know I'm not going to join that clique. TTYL is represented by whatever white and black things were around at the time, since the difference between the truth and lies is white and black. This year the bowl has a black high heeled shoe and some used tissues in it. And finally, Alteration is represented by a bottle of sauerkraut. I guess it shows the way being selfless can sometimes be sour, but if you can fight through it, you might enjoy a truly delicious hotdog or truly beautiful life. Mmm, hotdogs.

Anyway, we're all sitting down according to our cliques. On our way there, my dad stops to say hello to Gina Geniusson, the head of Snobs-R-Us. She got that position after everyone in the clique was ordered to take an IQ test and she got the highest result. No other clique has ever had to take an IQ test, but we all have our own methods for choosing leaders. Oh, and also, Alteration controls the whole government for some reason. I guess I didn't mention that earlier, oops.

"Good morning, Gina," my dad says.

"Hello, Mr. Mayer," she replies.

"It's 'Myer,' actually."

"Do you hear that?" Gina says. We all listen for a second. "That's the sound of me not caring. I'm going to go now." Then she walks away to sit with the rest of Snobs-R-Us.

"Wow," Cable says. "She's really cool. I wish I could think of such awesome comebacks."

We sit down with the rest of the Alteration people, and then the ceremony begins. First the leader of Alteration gives a speech. His name is Marco Polo. "Hello everyone," he says. "Welcome to the annual Clique Pick Shindig. I'm so glad you could all be here today. This ceremony is a tradition that we've-"

"Get to the point!" someone yells.

"OK. Um, well, as you know, today you'll be choosing the clique where you'll spend the rest of your lives. And we believe in the freedom to choose. By which I mean, you can choose to say goodbye to the values you were raised with and abandon your family if you so desire. Happy picking!"

Then it's time for people to start choosing. After a name is called, the person comes up to the stage and takes a knife, then makes a cut in their hand. Then they drip some blood into the bowl that corresponds with the clique they want to be in. They used to just have a big whiteboard and you'd take a marker and circle the clique you chose, but all the markers dried out eventually and no one could figure out how to make new ones. Also, I guess that dripping your blood shows how devoted you are to your clique and stuff. So they start calling names and people make their decisions. I'm not sure what order it's going in, but I can't really pay much attention because I'm so worried. Should I stay in Alteration where I'm unhappy? That would please my parents. What would happen if I chose a different clique? Then I risk disappointing my cold, emotionally distant father and warm, less emotionally distant mother. It's a tough choice.

"Cable Myer!" Marco Polo calls out, which means it's my brother's turn.

"Good luck," I whisper to him.

"How does luck have anything to do with this?" he asks, and then goes down to the stage.

What will he choose? I watch as he takes the knife and slices his skin. Then he drips his blood... into the Snobs-R-Us bowl! What the heckie?! Since when did my brother want to be a snob? I can't believe it. He walks over to the rest of the snobs, who shake his hand while holding their noses. I guess they bathe more than once a month, the greedy jerks. Obviously I'm not going to join that clique. I look over at my parents. My mom looks a little sad, but my dad looks downright homicidal. Maybe it's a sign that he wants me to stay in Alteration, maybe not.

"Beatrix Myer!"

Hey! That's me! It's my turn to choose. I walk down the stairs, nervously but sexily, and stare at the bowls. _OK, let's think about this._ I already eliminated Snobs-R-Us, so that's not happening. I eliminated Rainbow Sparkle Sunshine because of their horrible symbol. That leaves TTYL, Army, and Alteration. I don't know if I could deal with the honest lifestyle expected in TTYL, seeing as I sometimes benefited from Cable's smuggling. So my two choices are Alteration or Army. Really, my actual choices are making my parents happy and leading the boring life that comes with that, or doing what makes me happy and leading an exciting life. Since no one wants to read a novel about a girl leading a bland existence sewing sweaters and being selfless, I decide I'd better choose Army. So I make a cut in my palm and drip some blood onto the meat in the bowl.

At first I hear someone growling and think it must be my father, angered at my choice. But then I realize it's just my stomach. I wonder if I can snag a piece of this Army meat and have myself a little snack, but then logic kicks in and I figure it's pretty unwise to eat meat that's got the blood of a bunch of other people on it. I could, like, get a cold or something. My dad _is_ pretty mad, though. I can tell by the tone in his voice when he yells "DANG FLABBIT, BEATRIX!" Fortunately, some Army people show up and drag him out of the room. I go to stand with the other Army people who are still there, since I'm now one of them. Then a bunch of other people choose their cliques, but none of them are really important, so let's just fast forward to the good part, shall we? You're welcome.

After that it's time to peace outta there and go to the Army base so we can start training. To get there, we have to jump on to that moving train that the Army people are always jumping off of. They're the only one who use it; all the other cliques ride the bus, though a few families have their own cars. The Snobs-R-Us make these really cool cars that run off solar energy and have pretty lights, but they don't share them with the other cliques. I doubt it's because they think they're better than the rest of us or something like that.

So you might be surprised to hear this, but jumping on to a vehicle that's already in motion isn't easy. We have to run next to the train as it's moving, and find some way to propel ourselves inside. I heard from someone that there was a time when the train would stop and start so that everyone had time to get on comfortably, but there's no fun in that! See? I was totally meant to be in Army. Anyway, I'm sprinting as fast as I can next to this dumb train and I start to think I might not make it on. Thankfully, at the last second, someone grabs my arm and helps me jump in. "Thanks," I say.

"You're welcome," the girl replies.

I take a good look at her. I think she's the first black person I've ever seen up close, so that's new and different. Judging by her clothes, I can tell she's from TTYL. It's not unusual for people from that clique to transfer to Army; a lot of them also come from Snobs-R-Us. It's pretty rare for someone to transfer from Alteration to Army, but it happens. I mean, it just did, to me. "My name is Beatrix," I say, introducing myself.

"Mine's Veronica," she tells me.

"Hmm... where have I heard that name before? It sounds strangely familiar."

"I'm not sure."

Suddenly there's a loud crunching sound. "What was that?" I shriek.

"We've got roadkill!" someone yells.

"Roadkill?" I ask.

"Somebody didn't make it onto the train and got run over. Haven't you noticed all those red splatters on the side of the car?" Veronica explains.

"Oh, I thought that was modern art."

"I did too at first, but I asked my dad about it and since we're in TTYL, he had to tell me the truth."

"Wow, that sounds inconvenient. I've lied to my parents more times than I can count," I say cheerfully.

After a while, people start standing up, so I guess that means it's time to get off. Then they start jumping off the train and onto a nearby rooftop. It's kind of terrifying, but if I don't do it, that means I'll be cliqueless, and I'd rather be dead! Actually, that's a pretty reasonable possibility too, because if I jump and don't make it, I'll be meeting hard concrete.

"I don't know if I can do this," Veronica whimpers.

"Sure you can," I say. Yeah, you can tell I wasn't made for TTYL. I realize there's a chance Veronica might not make the jump and she could die. I think about saying goodbye to her there and then.

"Let's jump together," she suggests before I can bid her farewell.

"Oh, um... OK, I guess. But-" before I can really understand what's going on, Veronica grabs my hand and we're leaping through the air onto the rooftop. Fortunately, we both make it on alive. There's even some chunks of rock there to helpfully break our fall. Looking around at the other people who survived the jump, I see I'm the only Alteration transfer here. Ha ha ha. I am so cool.

One of the Army leaders stands with us. "Did everyone make it?" he asks, looking around. "Oh, I guess not. Only two corpses so far this year, that's not bad. I guess the animals around here will be eating well tonight. Anyway, hello everyone, my name is Mix."

I wonder if Mix is his first name or last name. If it's his last name, I bet his first is Pancake.

"Now that we're all here, the next thing we're going to do is jump off the ledge of this building. Yeah, a few people died trying to get here and that's bad and everything, but those of you who survived have the privilege of making this jump, because it leads to the back entrance of the Army headquarters." Mix smiles. "So who's going to go first?"

I feel someone push me forward.

"Hey, who's doing that...!" I protest.

"So you're volunteering then?" Mix asks.

"No, I-"

"Well, congratulations. Being the first jumper is a huge honor."

"Oh, OK..." Well, I love honor. I guess I'll just have to do it. I walk over to the ledge and look down and I can see a hole where I'm supposed to jump through, except it's completely black so I have no way of knowing what awaits me down at the bottom. Water, a net, or maybe a mattress? Or on the other hand I could be jumping into the open mouth of a huge monster or into a spike pit. Well, only one way to find out. I leap off the building yelling "Cowabunga" so everyone knows I'm not scared.

I land in a goopy, sweet-smelling substance. The surface is so soft that it completely breaks my fall, too. I look around and realize that this is actually a giant slab of lime flavor sugar-free Jell-O® brand gelatin! I almost start gobbling it up but someone yanks me right out of there before I can get going. I look up: it's a totally hot dude with blue eyes and gorgeous, shimmering hair. "Don't eat the sugar-free Jell-O® brand gelatin, please," he says. "We need that for people to land on so they don't hit the ground and die on impact."

"OK, no problem," I say. Actually it is sort of a problem because my stomach is still growling and that sugar-free Jell-O® brand gelatin is smelling irresistible, but I find it hard to say no to this beautiful man. Plus it would be kind of bad if my appetite was responsible for some people's deaths.

"What's your name?" the guy asks.

"It's Beatrix."

"Huh?"

"I said, my name is Beatrix."

"Whoa, sorry. That name is crazy long and complicated," he says. "Why don't you use a nickname instead?"

"OK," I reply. I'm immediately feeling a connection with the dude because I also sometimes have problems with words that are more than two syllables. "Um... how about Trix?" I offer.

"Silly rabbit, Trix are for kids," the guy says.

"What?"

"Sorry, I'm not sure why I said that."

_He's so cool and mysterious,_ I think.

"Trix is good. We can even call you Trixie. My name is Forty." Then he turns to another direction and yells. "Hey everyone, we got our first jumper here! Her name is Trixie!"

A few people appear out of the darkness to congratulate me. Of course they're all people who have already been in Army a few years and know the ropes well, and they're all wearing the typical Army apparel: black leather. I guess they're pretty liberal around here because I see a few people wearing nothing but Speedo bathing suits. At the same time, a few others are wearing catsuits. When someone comes up to hug me, I get a face full of chest hair, which is a new experience to say the least.

I hear a squishing sound as the next jumper lands on the block of sugar-free Jell-O® brand gelatin. I turn to see it's Veronica. I can tell she's considering eating it too before someone pulls her away. She starts to walk over to me but before she can, all the Army people come to congratulate her too. Once she finally frees herself, we sit down to watch the rest of the new initiates jump. I keep hoping someone will come around with bowls of more sugar-free Jell-O® brand gelatin for us, but they're too busy hugging and potentially emotionally scarring people after they jump.

After what seems like a million years or something, everyone's done, so it's time to go. I wonder what they're going to do with the giant block of sugar-free Jell-O® brand gelatin. Maybe they'll donate it to the cliqueless, but probably not because that's the job of Alteration, my clique. I mean my _old_ clique, ha ha!

"Everyone actually survived the jump this year," the other leader says to Forty as they lead us away.

"I know," he responds. "Switching from a pool of boiling lava to a giant cube of sugar-free Jell-O® brand gelatin was a great idea."

"Ugh, don't remind me of last year. This whole place smelled like burnt flesh for a week."

I walk along with the others, following Forty and feeling thankful I didn't transfer to Army last year.


	3. Chapter 3

We're walking down this long tunnel that leads into the Army headquarters when suddenly we stop. "At this point we're going to be splitting you up," Forty says. "Those of you who were born in Army are going to go with Luanne since you don't need a tour. The transfers stay with me."

Luanne, apparently, is the other leader who Forty was talking to earlier. What kind of name is that, though? She must have been born in Rainbow Sparkle Sunshine. Transferring from there to Army is pretty uncommon too, but this story is about me, not the shenanigans of some chick named Luanne. Anyway, me and the other transfers follow Forty in one direction while the others go off a different way.

"Although I normally do other work, I'm going to be instructing all y'all for the next few weeks. And for anyone who didn't already know, my name is Forty." A couple of hands shoot up; Forty rolls his eyes and then nods at someone to speak.

"What's your other job?" a boy from TTYL asks.

"Oh... well..." Forty coughs. "I'll, uh, tell you when you're older."

We all look at each other, trying to figure out what this might mean, but Forty quickly calls on the second question, which comes from Veronica. "Why are you called Forty?" she asks.

"None of your beeswax," he replies, but then people start asking him more and more questions.

"How old are you?"

"What's your shoe size?"

"How much do you weigh?"

"Are you married?"

"Does the sun make noise?"

"What is the meaning of life?"

"ENOUGH!" Forty growls, and we all quiet down. "The next person who asks me a question without permission is going to be fed to the hogs!" That shuts us up. So, we continue walking down the same tunnel until we reach a set of double doors. "Behind here is a place we like to call the Snacketeria," Forty tells us. "It's where everyone hangs out, and I'm sure you'll all love it." Then he opens the doors and we follow him inside.

I look around the Snacketeria and I can see it's basically just a huge pit. I guess it's sort of like the town center of the Army headquarters. It's filled with people, who all look like they're having a great time talking and laughing.

"As you can see, this is a popular spot," Forty said. "Most people come here for fun, although sometimes people do performances for money."

I want to ask what kind of performances, but seeing as I'd rather not be fed to the hogs, I stay silent.

"What kind of performances, you may be wondering," Forty continues. "Well, over there is our organ grinder, Rufus Ruffleton. And sometimes people will fight each other, for entertainment's sake." He points out an area where I see two girls aiming high-power machine guns at each other.

"Wow," Veronica whispers to me. "An organ grinder! This place has everything!"

"Come with me," Forty says. He walks us over into the Snacketeria and then heads to the right corner, which is dark and spooky. "This over here is the death whirlpool." We follow him and see pretty much exactly what he described: the floor ends and there's a railing at the edge; beyond that is a giant whirlpool. "This is a courtesy to members of Army. If you ever feel like you just can't hack it anymore and you don't want to suffer the horrible fate of being cliqueless, you can always jump into the whirlpool and have a quick, painless death."

_Wow,_ I think. _That would be a lot more convenient than just hanging myself. _"You're right," I tell Veronica in a low voice. "They really do have everything."

"All this talk about death is making me hungry," Forty announces. "Shall we go to the chow zone?" Everybody cheers. He leads us away from the death whirlpool and down a different tunnel, which then opens to a well-lit room, which looks sort of like the cafeteria at school except there's a giant pig roasting on a spit in the middle of it.

As we walk in, everyone starts cheering, and I think it's because they're happy to see us, but then suddenly someone yells "FINALLY, they're here! We can eat now!" Then everyone starts running over to slice off pieces of meat.

"Do you have a salad bar here?" a girl from Snobs-R-Us asks.

Forty laughs loudly and slaps her on the back. "You're funny," he says. "I like that. A good sense of humor is important in a clique like Army where you see people dying every day."

I have to admit I don't think that girl was joking, and I also kind of wanted to ask the same thing. In Alteration, we - I mean, _they _don't eat any meat at all, especially not whole roasted pigs. Mostly they eat stuff that comes out of cans, because caring too much about the quality of your meals is considered self-indulgent which is the exact opposite of what you're supposed to be in Alteration. Since a lot of the cans didn't have labels, we couldn't always identify what the contents were, but we ate them anyway. For example, one of my favorite meals was this mushy gray stuff; it always brought a smile to my face when I saw it on the dinner table. Later I found out it was actually liquid fertilizer, but the point is that I've never experienced such majestic meals before. I think this is one aspect of living in Army that won't be difficult to get used to.

I grab a plate and fill it with meat slices, and then I go sit down at a table with Veronica, who I guess is my new best friend. Also, Forty decides to join us for some reason, which is cool and stuff. I'm about to start digging in when suddenly the doors to the chow zone open, and everyone goes silent. The person who walks in looks unlike anyone I've ever seen. His black hair is piled atop his head in an up-do formed into a giant cone, and his chest hair has been waxed into the shape of an inverted cross. His long nails are sharpened, so they look like claws, and they have been painted with sparkly black polish. His face has so many piercings I can't even count them all, but it looks like at least three. As for his clothes, he's wearing ripped up black jeans, no shirt whatsoever, and, shockingly enough - roller-skates. I can tell this guy must be seriously brave because wearing skates without a helmet is dangerous.

"Who's that?" Veronica asks.

"How should I know?" I reply.

"I was asking Forty."

"Maybe he wasn't listening to you because you're not his designated love interest in this story."

"Oh. Well, can you ask him for me?"

"Sure," I say helpfully. "Forty, who is that man?"

"That's E-Rock," he answers. "The E stands for 'evil.' He's totally not, though. He's actually a leader in Army, and that's why everyone was quiet for a moment when he walked in."

"Wow, that's such an unusual name," Veronica observes. "Were his parents doing a lot of drugs when they thought of it?"

"No, he was actually born with a different name, but he changed it when he joined Army. Just like you did, Trixie." Forty says.

"Huh? Who's Trixie?" Veronica questions.

"Me," I tell her.

"You told me your name is Beatrix. Don't lie to me. I may not be in TTYL anymore but I still value honesty, and like, telling the truth and stuff," Veronica says to me.

"I'm not lying. My name used to be Beatrix, but I changed it. Weren't you listening to what Forty said three seconds ago?"

"Oh! Right." Veronica chuckles. "Sorry."

Surprisingly, E-Rock skates over in our direction and sits down next to Forty. "Hey buddy boy," he says cheerfully. "What's poppin'? How's it hanging? All good in the hood?"

"Yes, E-Rock," Forty says. "Everything is all good."

"Why don't you introduce me to these hot mamas?" E-Rock asks.

"OK. This is Trixie and her friend."

Veronica clears her throat.

"And her friend," Forty repeats.

"Mix keeps saying that he wants to meet up with you," E-Rock says. "But that he can't get ahold of you. I told him to try checking out back, but that trick has only worked like fifteen times. Eventually you're going to have to actually talk to him."

"You can tell him that I don't want another job," Forty replies. "I'm happy with this one."

"Yeah, well, I'd be happy too if I spent my days mentoring hot young chicks."

"I only do that for a few weeks out of the year."

"True, but it's good work if you can get it." E-Rock wiggles his eyebrows at Veronica and me.

While I can't help but acknowledge that dating an Army leader would probably be pretty useful, E-Rock doesn't meet my two criteria when it comes to potential boyfriends: one, you have to be named after a number, and two, you can't have a hyphen in your name. But regardless, it seems E-Rock isn't _too_ interested in me, because after that he just skates away and sits with some other important Army people.

"Are you two friends?" I ask Forty.

"Well, we were in the same initiation group. E-Rock transferred here from Snobs-R-Us. He used to look a lot different."

"Did you transfer, too?"

"You know, Trixie, I've had enough of people asking me personal questions today," Forty grunts. "If you're curious about the truth so much, you should've transferred to TTYL instead of here."

"No way," I scoff. "Have you seen what was in their bowl during the Clique Pick Shindig? A black high heel and used tissues! I'll take old meat over that any day!"

Forty nods. "That's the spirit."

After dinner, E-Rock takes over being in charge of us, and leads us out of the chow zone and then down five million halls or something. It's a little hard to keep up with him because he's on roller-skates and the rest of us are just walking, but we manage. "Hi losers," he addresses us respectfully. "As some of you might already know, my name is E-Rock and I'm one of the leaders here in Army. I'm in charge of overseeing a bunch of stuff, so I'm kind of a big deal and whatnot. Anyway, here's the dealio. Your training will go on every day from eight in the morning till six in the evening. After that you can do whatever you want, only you're not allowed to leave the Army compound." E-Rock yawns loudly. "Right, so, behind here is the room where you'll all be sleeping and I know you're all dying to see it so let's go in."

E-Rock opens the door and leads us inside. The room is black, like pretty much every other one here, and there are ten beds. There are only nine of us here to occupy them, though. I guess maybe one of them was for that boy who turned into roadkill. For some reason, everyone decides to go to bed right then, so we all plop down in our beds and go to sleep. I don't, though. Sleeping in the same room with not just one but _multiple_ boys is a little bit much for me. Back in Alteration, I had my own room. I wasn't allowed to decorate it or anything, but at least I had privacy, so I could hang out in the nude all I wanted. Oh, and also no one saw me changing. Everyone here seems to be pretty comfortable with it, since they're all changing into the Army pajamas in front of each other. Since I'm not ready to expose my naked body to a bunch of strangers, I just go to bed wearing my Alteration outfit.

I'm trying to fall asleep but I keep getting interrupted by this repetitive noise. It's this weird kind of squishing sound, and at first I think maybe someone wearing rubber boots is walking around outside. But then a vile stench hits my nose, and it occurs to me that the noises are actually someone farting over and over. Suppressing the urge to barf, I lie face down so my nose is in the pillow, which helps a little. I try to get a glance at the perpetrator; all I can tell is that the farts are coming in the general direction of a boy from TTYL. I heard everyone's name when we were jumping, but I don't remember this boy's. Actually, I don't remember anyone's except Veronica's. So I figure I'll just give this guy a nickname in my mind. He's pretty large, so Pumpkin would work, but that's already taken by my old friend (I guess) in Alteration. Instead I just decide to call him Fartface.

In Alteration I would never comment on anyone else's sickening bodily functions, but now that I'm in Army, I have to be brave. "Keep your gas to yourself, you piece of trash!" I hiss at Fartface. I wasn't very loud but he definitely heard me because the farting stops quickly. It's replaced by small, quiet sobs, which are much easier to fall asleep to. What a weakling he is! Ah, music to my ears.


	4. Chapter 4

"The first thing you're going to learn in your training is how to shoot a gun," Forty announces.

"Wouldn't it make more sense to begin with self-defense?" someone else whose name I forgot protests. "And also, none of us have ever handled weapons before and you're starting us off with some of the most deadly weapons there are? I don't understand."

"The second thing you'll learn is how to win a fight," Forty continues. I guess he didn't hear what the protesting person said. "Here are some guns for you. You'll need to give them back after the training session today. If any of you misbehave, I'm tossing you in the death whirlpool immediately. Last year, when we were doing this part of the training, some of the kids took it as an opportunity to, uh, work out some differences... creatively." Forty clears his throat. "OK. So we've set up some targets for you to practice on here."

I look over and see that the targets are pieces of plywood with a picture of a cartoon frowning man on it. There are a few different circles: one on his head, one on his chest, and one on his crotch. I decide that's the one I'm going to go for. I pick up my gun and aim it at the crotch circle and then pull the trigger. Huh. Well! That bullet didn't end up anywhere near the target, but at least I didn't hit anyone, so I won't be dying a horrible death in the whirlpool. I keep trying, but I realize I've used up all the bullets in the gun and I didn't hit the target at all! Still haven't hit a person, though, so at least there's that.

I notice some boy from Snobs-R-Us has been watching me. "I'm impressed," he jokes. "Not because of how good you are, but because of how terrible you are."

"Shut your face and get off my case," I say kindly.

"Bill! Trixie! Quit your arguing and focus on the task!" Forty barks.

"I can't," I whine. "My chamber is empty."

Forty rolls his eyes and then walks over and refills my gun. "Now get back to work," he says as he hands it to me.

On my second round of bullets, I manage to hit the target a couple times, but only in the chest - I completely miss the crotch circle. But it's better than before. "Hey dummy," I say, addressing Bill. "Check it out."

"Oh wow, big deal. Anyone could do that. I'll call you when I care," he replies.

Based on the way he's talking to me, I'm pretty sure Bill wants to be my friend. So it comes as no surprise when he comes to eat lunch with Veronica and me. That's pretty easy to take, but for some idiotic reason Veronica decides to invite none other than Fartface from last night. Still, I'm in a fairly good mood since I hit that target a few times, so as long as he can control his flatulence I guess I'll tolerate his presence.

"Why are you eating with us?" Veronica asks Bill. "Why aren't you sitting with the other Snobs-R-Us kids? Aren't they your friends?"

"No," Bill says.

Well, I guess Bill can join my posse if he wants. "OK, you can sit with us," I announce in a cool voice. I'm obviously becoming the Queen Bee of our year of Army initiates. Soon I'll have to pick and choose who will have the honor of sitting at my lunch table. These first three are lucky.

Bill sits down and we start eating. Lunch today is steaks (five per person) and mashed potatoes. It's still weird to be eating meat, especially since I've never seen any cows before. I guess maybe they live on the Rainbow Sparkle Sunshine people's farms, except I'm pretty sure those are only for planting. Well, that's a plot hole - ahem, I mean a _mystery_ - that I'll put aside. So we're eating away when I start to hear a peculiar wet squishing sound. At first I think Fartface is up to his old tricks, but looking to my left I see its actually two people at the table next to us. They're hardcore making out to the point where they're eating each other's faces more than they're eating the lunch.

"That's gross," I say.

"What's wrong? I think it's sweet," Veronica muses.

"Typical behavior for a Stitch," Bill says.

I frown. "Stitch" is a mean nickname for people in Alteration, since we make clothes. My mom told me there used to be a different nickname that was a lot meaner and that it sounded kind of like "stitch" but with a different beginning letter. I never figured it out, but I didn't think too much about it. I mean, no one uses rude nicknames like that toward each other within Alteration. OK, sure, I used to call that girl Pumpkin, but it was only in my mind! And she wasn't obese or something. She was a little orange, though, but that's not a crime. The truth is, this isn't the first time I've been called a Stitch, but since I'm not in Alteration anymore, I don't have to be a selfless wimp. I'm in Army, I can fight back! I grab my fork and I'm about to stab it into Bill's hand, but he pulls it away at the last second.

We all laugh. It feels good to laugh again, especially at someone else's expense.

Apparently we've gotten all the gun training we need because after lunch Forty takes us to a completely different place. As usual we go through about six to seven million tunnels to get there, and when we do it's nothing fascinating. It's a big room with a circle drawn on the floor and a chalkboard standing by. I think I saw one of those when I used to be in school. So, like a week ago. In another area of the room there are also some punching bags. Forty walks over to them. "I'm going to teach you some fighting moves," he tells us. "I want you all to practice these until you master each one."

I watch carefully.

First, Forty punches the bag straight-on. "This is called _punching someone you don't like_," he explains. Then he punches the bag with both fists. "This one is _punching someone you really don't like,_" he says. Then finally, he punches the bag five times in a row with both fists. "And this one is _punching someone you hate_."

Veronica looks at me and sighs quietly. "There's no way I can remember all these names," she whispers.

"And now for kicks," Forty announces. He starts with a kick with the tip of his foot. "This is _kicking someone you have an issue with._" Then he kicks with the whole back side of his foot. "This one is called _kicking someone you have a big issue with."_ Finally he jumps up and kicks the bag with both feet. "And this is _kicking someone you have a huge issue with._"

I'm amazed. I wish I'd known how to do this stuff when I was in Alteration. But no one really has arguments there. I guess that would be kind of self-indulgent or something. Or maybe they're all just a bunch of wimps. Yeah, that's probably it.

"Now you're all going to practice the moves I've shown you," Forty tells us. He assigns each of us to a punching bag and tells us to start. I try all the punches and then all the kicks, but I can barely get the punching bag to move an inch. I guess I'm too weak. When Forty comes by to check my progress, he doesn't seem impressed. "You don't have a lot of muscle, Trixie."

"I know."

"Why don't you try using your elbows and knees? You can do more damage with them since they're sharp, seeing as you're kind of bony and whatnot."

"Um, thank you?"

"Alright, now try it. Jab your elbow into the punching bag."

"OK." I stick out my right elbow, pull it back and then hit it against the bag with as much force as I can. Still, the thing doesn't move! "It didn't work," I complain. "Do you have any other tactics you can suggest for a weakling like me?"

Forty looks surprised. "Hmm, that's weird. Those elbows of yours are practically a weapon. Why didn't they do any damage?" He looks up. "Oh, wait a minute. This is punching bag #4!"

"Yeah, so what?" I ask.

"Looks like I accidentally assigned you to the punching bag filled with cement! Whoops." Then Forty moves me to a different bag.

By the time I've pretty much destroyed the new punching bag with my lethal elbows and knees, it's dinner, so Forty lets us go and we head back to the chow zone. Dinner tonight is bacon soufflé. I sit with my pack of followers again - Veronica, Bill, and Fartface. I guess we're officially a little group now, which is cool and stuff. After we're finished stuffing our faces, there's still a lot of time left, so we decide to go hang out in the Snacketeria. As it turns out, the entire bottom floor is filled with stores offering body modification procedures. There's a piercing shop, a tattoo parlor, and even a store called "Dr. Beauty's Quickie Nosejobs."

"I want to get a tattoo," Fartface declares.

"That's a good idea," Veronica says. "Right now we still look all normal and stuff. We should get some stuff done so we look more like Army people."

"Are you calling me fat?" Bill asks defensively.

"No, I'm saying that all our clothes are ugly. Especially Trixie. Those pants must be two sizes too big."

OK, that was rude, but I'm still going to let Veronica be in my posse. "Fine, if you want to go on a shopping spree so badly, we can," I say cleverly.

"I'll take Trixie to get a makeover. We'll meet you two at the tattoo parlor later," Veronica announces and then drags me off.

We head in the direction of one of the few stores on this level that don't offer body modifying procedures; it's a clothes shop. On the way there, I decide to have a little heart-to-heart with Veronica. "Excuse me," I say. "But _I'm_ actually the leader of this posse. So I think you should let me make the decisions from now on."

"Yeah yeah, sure, of course," Veronica says in a voice that sounds like she wasn't actually listening to me. "That top would look great on you!"

"That's actually a bra," a store employee says.

"Hah, and you people think _you're_ adventurous? I could totally pull it off," Veronica gloats.

"OK, well, whatever," the employee replies and walks away.

"I'm not sure I'm ready to wear tops that expose 70-80% of my upper body," I admit. "Why don't we look for something that covers a little more?"

"Oh, _fine._ Why don't we look at dresses?"

I'm a little surprised to see they have dresses for sale. Living in Army means leading a very physical life and constantly perfecting your fighting skills, and I think wearing a dress might hinder that a little. Maybe they have formal events here, though. My mom told me every clique invents their own holidays, after all. The one I remember most from Alteration was called Sewing Things for the Poor Day. It was a day dedicated to sewing things for the poor. The reason I can remember it so well is because it actually happened every Sunday. There was sometimes talk about officially renaming Sunday to Sewing Things for the Poor Day, but it didn't work out so we just continued calling it a holiday. The other holiday we had was Spring Cleaning Day. That was when we looked over our clothes to make sure we only had the bare minimum and then get rid of anything not absolutely necessary. That was one of the times I was forced to part with my skunk fur coat. Sigh.

I pick out a dress, slip into a dressing room and try it on. When I come out, Veronica looks pleased. "That's much better than before. I'm going to toss your old clothes into a fire as soon as possible."

"But-"

"OK! Let's get some makeup on you." Veronica chirps and then takes me to another area of the store. "Do you even know what this stuff is?"

"Uh, yeah," I say. "Just because I wasn't allowed to wear makeup doesn't mean I don't know what it is." I toss my hair like the cool chick that I am and smile superiorly.

"OK, here," Veronica says. She leans in close to me and starts drawing on my eyes with black eyeliner.

To be honest, I don't really mind Veronica applying makeup on me. When I was in school, I sometimes saw girls from Snobs-R-Us doing it in the bathroom, and they usually looked a lot better afterward. Sometimes I wished I could ask one of them to do a sister a solid and do my mascara or something, but that would have been a huge, _huge_ no-no for someone in Alteration. So I never did. But I'm in Army now, so I can wear as much makeup as I want!

"All done," Veronica announces and I immediately jump in front of the nearest mirror.

"Incredible," I say. I'm amazed. I didn't think it would be possible, but Veronica made me even hotter than I was before! "Good work, loyal minion," I tell her.

We head over to the tattoo parlor where Fartface is getting his work done. The tattoo in progress is a big heart with "MOM" inside it, so that's cute I guess. "This really hurts," Fartface complains.

"Of course it does, you idiot," I tell him cheerfully. "What did you think a needle injecting ink under your skin was going to feel like?" I have a little chuckle at his pain and then walk off to look around the rest of the tattoo parlor. Suddenly, I see a familiar face: it's Maggie! She's not working on anyone at the moment, so I go over to say hi. "Hey, Maggie," I say. "Can you tell me more about being Divergent?"

Maggie slaps me across the face. "Are you stupid? I told you not to tell anyone about that."

I laugh and slap her back, figuring this must be one of those Army games I'm always hearing about.

Then Maggie punches me in the nose and I black out for about five minutes so I guess she won this round. "That must have been _punching someone you don't like_," I say, remembering the lesson Forty gave earlier.

Maggie looks happy again. "I'm glad you've been paying attention to your instructors," she says. "So, want a tattoo?"

Hmm. I think about it. A tattoo can only make me even hotter, right? Why not? "Yeah," I tell her. "I'd love one."

"OK, what do you want it to be?" she asks.

"I didn't really figure that out yet."

"Here's a book of some designs I'm good at," Maggie says and hands me a binder.

I open it up and check out the pages. There are a lot of words, some of which can't legally be printed here, and also many cool pictures. There are mermaids, flowers, birds, and a bunch of other stuff that isn't relevant right now. "How about a butterfly?" I ask in a flash of inspiration.

"OK," Maggie says. "Where do you want it?"

"Hmm... how about on my chest, right between my lady lumps, if you know what I mean?" I suggest.

"Um... that might draw the wrong kind of attention."

"Oh. Then what do you think?"

"How about a little bit higher and off to the side?"

"Alright, sure."

Maggie starts doing the tattoo and I realize that Fartface is right, it does hurt a lot. I actually think I might black out again, but Maggie finishes before I can. "There we go! It looks good." Then suddenly she frowns and smacks her forehead. "Oh, damn it! I did another tattoo without applying anesthetic before! Ugh, how many times have I done that?"

"What anesthetic?" I ask.

"Well, we have this cream that Snobs-R-Us developed for tattoo parlors. If a thick layer is rubbed on prior to doing the tattoo, up to 90% of pain can be eliminated," Maggie explains.

"And you just... forgot to use it on me?"

"Yeah! Sorry."

This time I punch Maggie in the noise. And then I hurry out of there before anyone sees.


	5. Chapter 5

The next day, Forty drags us all back to that fighting room where we were yesterday. "There's an odd number of you, and the robotic fighting dummies are currently in repair, so one person isn't going to be fighting today. Trixie, you're a weakling and I have a latent need to protect you, so that person will be you."

"OK?" I say.

Veronica frowns. "I don't feel like I have enough training to fight someone yet."

"Don't worry, it's not that serious. We've been using this initiation method for many, many years, and not many people have died. Only..." Forty starts counting on his fingers but he stops when he's used them all. "Um, I don't know the exact number right now. But not that many, OK?"

"Phew," Veronica says, relieved. Then she glances at the whiteboard and gives me a frightened look. "Oh no," she whispers. "I'm fighting Manly."

"Huh?" I ask.

Veronica points to a girl standing on the opposite side of the room. "Manly Michaelson," she explains.

I look over. The girl is muscular and her hunchback doesn't stop me from seeing that she has more facial hair than Cable. Meanwhile, her hair is in two pigtails and her lips have been painted bright pink. She's standing with two boys who look equally as mean. I realize that this must be my rival posse, but there's only three of them and there's four people in mine, so I win. "Who's the Queen Bee of their posse?" I ask Veronica. I've got to know who I'm up against.

"Bees? What are you talking about?"

I figure I might need to dumb down my language a little since Veronica isn't a Divergent genius like me. "Who else is she friends with?" I rephrase my question. "Who are those two boys?"

"Oh, those are Pedro and Dwoo," she answers. "The three of them have been BFFs forever."

I sigh. "It's just 'BFFs,' Veronica.'"

"Huh?"

"Like, the second F stands for 'forever.' So you don't need to say 'BFFs forever.' You just say, 'BFFs.'"

Veronica gives me a look. "Are you sure you're not Snobs-R-Us?" she asks.

"Oh, please," I say with an eye roll. "Have you seen my French knots? 100% Alteration."

"OK!" Forty yells. "The designated time for having conversations unrelated to anything else is over! We're going to start with the fights now! People in the first slot, you're up."

I look at the whiteboard and see the first names written are Bill and Aladdin. Who's that? Two people start heading toward the circle on the floor; it's Bill, duh, and... Fartface! So his real name is Aladdin. I keep thinking I've heard that name somewhere before, but I can't remember where. It's probably not from a family entertainment company that tends to be really grasping when it comes to copyright, though. I think I'm going to keep calling him Fartface anyway.

E-Rock walks in from somewhere and hits a gong, which I guess means the fight begins now. I watch as Bill and Fartface go to the weapons rack to see what they'll choose to use in the battle.

"Wait a second," Forty interrupts. "What's going on? These are supposed to be fistfights."

"Those were the old Army rules," E-Rock corrects him.

"When did they change?"

"When I snuck in here in the middle of last night and added a weapons rack to the room and then secretly told all the initiates without you knowing."

"Oh," Forty says.

Fartface has chosen a bat with nails sticking out of it. Bill has chosen a banana. They go at it for a few minutes and shockingly enough, Fartface clearly has the upper hand. He hits Bill a couple times, who starts bleeding heavily and moaning in agony.

E-Rock takes out a camcorder and films the carnage. "This is great!" he cheers.

Bill manages to peel the banana and throw it under Fartface's feet. He steps on it and slips, throwing the bat into the air. Unfortunately, it lands directly into Bill's scalp. I guess that means Fartface wins the fight.

"Aladdin is the victor!" Forty declares, and then circles his name on the blackboard. Someone comes to drag Bill off to the infirmary, but Fartface is kind of fat so they just roll him away.

"Time for the next fight!" E-Rock shouts. He's foaming at the mouth ever so slightly. "Veronica versus Manly! Let's go!"

"Good luck," I tell Veronica.

"Thanks," she says. "I hope I don't die." Veronica walks off to the battle circle, which looks sort of slippery since it still has a bunch of Bill's blood on it. She picks up an axe from the weapons rack but can barely hold it up, so she puts it back down and chooses a fork instead. Manly takes the axe that Veronica couldn't carry, and then they both get into position. A woman in a bikini walks by holding a sign that says "Round 2" and then it's time for the fight to begin.

Veronica runs up to Manly and stabs the fork in her arm. In response, Manly makes a noise that sounds like something in between a lion's roar and an elephant trumpeting. "I WILL DESTROY YOU," she growls, then attempts to deliver a blow to Veronica's chest. It doesn't work though because of the size difference between the two: Veronica is about 5'9 and looks like she weighs 130, while Manly is closer to 7 feet tall and weighs... well, I'm not sure how much she weighs but her upper arm is the same thickness as my waist. Veronica keeps dodging Manly's attacks until finally she's not so lucky and gets an axe hit in the stomach.

"Ow," Veronica says, then falls on the ground, hugging her abdomen.

"Get back up," E-Rock commands.

"I can't."

"Get back up!"

"I think I'm going to die," Veronica moans. "I can't get up."

"I know what you're doing," E-Rock says angrily. "People always use that excuse. 'Oh no, I can't get back up, one of my arteries has been severed!' 'I need medical attention, I can actually feel my entrails coming out'! I've heard them all, missy."

"But-"

"Don't but me. You know, when I was going through initiation, someone actually sliced my head clean off! And what did I do, you ask? Well, I used my body to crawl back and reattach it. And then I won that fight."

"I don't remember that," Forty interjects.

"You must have been looking another direction for a minute."

"Oh."

"I'm obviously going to have to teach you a lesson," E-Rock says to Veronica. "Maybe that way you'll get it through your skull that cowardice isn't rewarded here in Army!"

Veronica manages to stand up. Huh, I don't remember her wearing a red shirt earlier. Oh, that's just her blood. "Fine," she gives in. "What is my punishment?"

E-Rock rubs his chin. "Two weeks without food should do the trick."

"Um, don't you think that might be a little excessive?" Forty asks.

I have to agree. Even in Alteration we never went that long without food. Sure, there were some times when all there was to eat was Styrofoam and leftover scraps of cotton, and let me tell you, those nights made for some memorable trips to the toilet afterward. But we would never just _not _eat. We needed our strength so we could help other people. In Army they need their strength too, for beating people up and whatnot.

"OK, fine," E-Rock relents. "I have another idea. Come with me, Veronica."

Veronica obeys, leaving the room with him. I decide to follow her since I'm her best friend I guess and it's not like I'm fighting anyone today, so I have plenty of time. Then I realize everyone else is coming, too. Ha ha, I am such a trendsetter. Go me.

E-Rock and Veronica go into a small room. There's nothing in it besides a stool and a pair of headphones. The rest of us have to wait outside. It seems the room is soundproof because I see E-Rock is talking to Veronica but I don't hear anything. She doesn't look scared though. Veronica picks up the headphones and puts them on. Then E-Rock pulls out a remote from somewhere and pushes a button. I watch Veronica's face. At first she looks OK, but all of a sudden an expression of horror crosses her face. It's not long before Veronica is pounding on the wall, but E-Rock just stands by.

I think about going inside to help her, but I would probably get in trouble. So I stay put.

"Go Veronica!" Fartface cheers.

"You idiot," I tell him. "The room is soundproof. And besides, she's got headphones on. She obviously can't hear you."

"Ah, that's right," he says.

After a few minutes, E-Rock presses another button on the remote and Veronica stops writhing. She yanks off the headphones and puts them on the floor, then holds her head in her hands. E-Rock opens the door and marches out of the room triumphantly. I walk in there to see what's going on, and Veronica is still sitting on the floor, whimpering.

"What did they do to you?" I ask.

"It was so horrible," she mumbles. "He played this music... I'd never heard it before... he said it was something called 'Nickelback.' I could hardly take it. I'm so thankful it was only five minutes. I don't know how much longer I would have survived."

Fartface lifts her up and carries her back to the fighting room and we watch a few more people beat the heck out of each other for the rest of the day.

That night I have a scary dream. I'm walking down a hall with Veronica when suddenly she turns to me and smiles evilly. "Since I was really brave in that room, I'm going to be taking over as Queen Bee of our posse," she says.

I frown and shake my head. "Sorry, but you're not Queen Bee material. You need to learn to be comfortable in the number two spot, sister."

Veronica laughs. "No way am I going to answer to someone detergent like you."

"Excuse you, but it's called _Divergent_," I correct her. Then I remember that I am not actually supposed to be telling anyone about that. "How did you find out I was Divergent?!" I ask angrily.

"Oh. Well. Um..."

"Not so smart are you now, huh?" I smirk. "Now you see why I'm the leader of our posse."

I wake up feeling really cool. Only then I can't fall back asleep so I guess I'll get started on preparing for the day ahead. I suppose I'll begin with a shower, just to mix things up. I go to the bathroom and take a shower. I stay in there for a healthy 35 seconds to ensure that I'm totally clean. After I'm done I grab a towel, making sure it's not one of the "sexy" Army towels that has a bunch of holes in it. Once I manage to find a regular towel that's not stained with blood, I wrap myself in it and head back to my bed. But when I get there, I see someone has vandalized it! The word "Stitch" has been spray-painted on my mattress, the bed frame, and my pillow. Who would do such a thing?!

"Do you like it?" someone says.

I turn around. It's Pedro, one of Manly's friends. I guess he is the Queen Bee of their posse. "No," I answer.

"Why not?" he asks.

"Because I'm not a Stitch anymore. I'm in Army, like you."

"No. You and I will never be in the same clique," Pedro says.

I consider kicking him in the crotch then, but my number one priority is cleaning my bedding. Fartface shows up and decides to help me, which is nice and stuff. I guess he's really trying to be my friend now. Well, it is appropriate for him to serve me as the Queen Bee, so that's cool. Maybe if he keeps this up I'll start calling him by his real name. What was it again? While I'm thinking, Fartface takes off my sheets and pillowcase and tosses them right in the trash.

"Um, I'm not sure that's necessary," I interrupt. "I'm sure they have washing machines here..." but I guess Fartface doesn't hear me because he continues. He picks up my mattress and throws that away, and then the bed frame. I stare at the patch of floor where my bed used to be. "Um, thank you," I say.

Fartface smiles proudly.

"So did you talk to Bill?" I ask. "Was he upset about you puncturing his skull and giving him potentially permanent brain damage?"

"Nah. He said it's happened to him before."

"Whoa."

Since we had to spend extra time "fixing" my bed, we don't have any time for breakfast so we just go to the fighting room.

"You're here," Veronica says when we arrive.

"Yeah, we are. Do you feel like stating anything else that's completely obvious?" I ask sweetly.

"You're fighting Pedro today."

I glance at the blackboard. Yes, it's true. On the one hand I'm sort of happy because I really want to get back at him for pulling that little prank on me. On the other hand I'm kind of afraid because Pedro seems to be the best fighter among us. Maybe my magical Divergent powers will help me. I figure I might get by if I can get my hands on that chainsaw I saw in the weapons rack, but the rack itself has mysteriously disappeared.

Pedro notices this too. "What happened to the weapons?"

"Back to fistfights," Forty says. "I changed the rules back."

"Darn it," E-Rock groans. "Why do you always have to ruin the fun?"

"Sorry."

E-Rock sighs and crosses his arms. "OK, fine. Trixie and Pedro, go."

Um, I don't want to go into the details of the fight but let's just say that I maybe sort of kind of lost. I totally tried my hardest and I almost won like four times. So yeah, it was _basically_ a tie. Except I'm in the infirmary and Pedro isn't, so.. I guess he did a tiny bit better than me. When I come to, all my faithful posse members are here: Veronica, Bill, and Fartface. "We're so glad you're not dead," Veronica says.

"Samesies," I reply.

"Are you OK?" Fartface asks.

"What do you think? I'm in a hospital, so-" I'm about to insult him when a nurse comes by and jabs something into my arm. It feels really nice. "So I'm on a lot of painkillers right now," I say dreamily.

"Do you feel up to coming to dinner with us?" Veronica asks. "They're serving meat sandwiches except they're using more meat in place of the bread."

"No," I say. I feel really out of it but I feel really comfortable at the same time. I don't think I can, or want to, leave this bed. "I'll be fine."

"Don't worry about Pedro," says Bill. "I'm sure Oddward is going to beat him up."

Who is Oddward? I'm not sure. Maybe I do actually know, but my brain definitely isn't working right from whatever that nurse shot into my veins. I feel generally great, though, so I just laugh. Veronica and Bill leave for dinner, but Fartface hangs back.

"You still look pretty, even with all those bruises on your face," he says.

My stunning face has been marred by bruises? I'm horrified. But then another wave of good feelings from the painkillers rushes over me and I laugh again. I guess Fartface thinks I'm laughing with him instead of at him because he joins in.

"You know, I had to fight with Dwoo today. I lost on purpose."

Even if I weren't on drugs I would find that amusing. "Why would you do that, dummy? Do you want to fail Army initiation and live cliqueless?"

"No, I just... I just hate hurting people."

"Why did you choose to join Army, then? Were you aware that there were four other options available?"

"Yeah, but I had a lot of pressure on me..."

I feel the effects of the painkillers kicking in again but this time they aren't making me laugh, they're making me exhausted. I'm so tired, in fact, that I fall asleep right while Fartface is in the middle of his sentence. Ha ha. Whoops.


	6. Chapter 6

I guess I sleepwalked back to the room with the other Army initiates because when Veronica slaps me in the face to wake up the next morning, I'm there instead of in the hospital. Apparently someone brought in a new bed for me seeing as I'm not lying on concrete. How sweet! Veronica slaps me again. "Get up, you lazy sack of garbage," she says helpfully.

"Why don't you get me some breakfast?" I suggest.

"What? Why should I?"

"Because I'm still recovering," I moan. "I'm in so much pain and stuff." I stick out my lower lip. "Come on, pleeeease?"

"Oh, _fine._ Just... get ready."

"Okey dokey," I say and start getting dressed. My body actually does hurt a lot, so it makes movements difficult. The last time my body was this sore was when my dad made me help him donate those cement mixers to the cliqueless. As I put my clothes on, I give my body a look in one of the mirrors in here. I can't help but notice that I've definitely gained some weight from joining Army. Maybe I'm building muscle from all my training, or maybe it's just because of all the meat they serve here.

When Veronica gets back I've gotten dressed, all by myself. To reward me, she gives me a muffin. It has bacon bits in it. I think my mom baked muffins at one point in my life. Ah, yes. That was before my father pulled the oven out of the wall and donated it to a cliqueless family.

"Well, let's get going," Veronica says as I shove the muffin into my mouth.

We walk to the Snacketeria and then hurry through 45 hallways until we reach the train tracks. The rest of my posse is already there and I push a bunch of people aside so I can assume my rightful position. "What's up, losers," I greet them gleefully.

"Good morning, Trixie," Fartface says. "I hope you're doing well."

Of course I ignore him and say hello to Bill instead.

"Why did it take you so long to get here?" Bill asks. "You two are the last to arrive."

Veronica looks embarrassed, so I step in. "We were being fashionably late, Bill. It's a concept that all cool people are familiar with." I toss my hair and flash him a grin that shows how I don't think his mediocre mind can understand what I'm saying.

Anyway, we all have to jump into the train as usual, and seeing as my body is still really damaged, I can tell this will probably be extremely painful. I wish I had another one of those shots that the nurse in the infirmary gave me. Or I wish I could float... wait a second! I am floating upward! This is amazing! Is it another power of my Divergence? ...Oh, no. It's just Fartface lifting me into the train. OK, well, whatever.

Once I get in there I have a look around and I can see my rival posse is in here. Manly, Pedro and Dwoo are standing in the opposite of the train car, looking STUPID as usual. "Hey Trixie," Pedro says when he spots me. "You look like you've been injured. I hope you're not feeling a _Stitch_ of pain!" Then he and his lackeys laugh and howl at the joke.

I try to think of some cool comeback, but all I can think to say is, "I hope you die in a car crash. And then I hope someone takes your remains, throws them in a fire and then runs over them with a steamroller. Then I hope they get shipped to your parents, after which they'll probably bury you. And I will find out where your grave is, and you know what I'll do? I will dance on it. Mark my words, Pedro. _I will dance on your grave._"

That stops their laughter. But before Pedro can say anything else, Forty intervenes. "Is it physically possible for you worthless initiates to stay quiet for more than five seconds at a time?" Forty is so sexy when he's breaking up our arguments.

"We're going to see the fence today," Veronica informs me.

"What fence?" I ask.

"_The_ fence. The one that surrounds the city."

Oh, that's right. I forgot to mention in the first chapter that post-apocalyptic Chicago has this big ole fence around it that some people from Alteration built like a million years ago. It's to protect us from... stuff. Bad stuff. Whatever stuff is beyond it. "Hey, Veronica," I say. "What do you think is beyond the fence?"

"Don't be an idiot, Trixie. That's where the Rainbow Sparkle Sunshine farms are."

"No, no. I mean beyond those, too."

"Oh." Veronica rubs her chin in thought. "Well, considering that there was an apocalypse, I'd guess it's just a wasteland."

"Hmm. I guess that's probably right. What if there were like, some kind of compound out there that's part of a mysterious government operating at a national level and watching everything we do?" I wonder.

Veronica and Bill laugh. "You have so many crazy ideas!"

I join them. "I know! There's no way that's what's happening. You're right, it's definitely just a wasteland."

Even still, there are guards from Army who hang out - I mean patrol - near the fence. They didn't always work there; they used to be stationed in the cliqueless parts of the city. I'm not really sure why, and neither was my dad. I remember him saying, "It's a waste of time to have those Army blockheads moseying around the cliqueless zones. Of course it makes more sense for them to monitor a part of the city that has even less activity!" And that's the story of how the Army guards got reassigned to patrolling the fence. Well, that's the simple version. In reality, it's pretty hard for us to come to decisions in Alteration because we're supposed to be all selfless so no one wants to like, _defy_ anyone else. One time I came to a clique meeting with my father, and it turned out to just be a bunch of geezers saying, "No, no, you're right." "No, you're right." "No, you are." Ha ha, those were the days.

The train actually comes to a stop, which is shocking. We don't have to jump off of it? Wowza! I guess it had to stop seeing as the gate was kind of blocking its path and whatnot, but still, this is pretty cool. So we all get off of the train and start walking. I check out the farms: they're growing a lot of these green plants with five big leaves and two little ones. I don't recognize them, but the people growing them look really relaxed.

"Being a fence guard isn't a very popular position," Forty announces. "If you get a low ranking in the end of initiation, you could end up working here."

It doesn't seem that bad to me. I could see myself here, taking naps whenever I wanted and hooking up with the sweaty Rainbow Sparkle Sunshine boys. Not bad at all. Still, I am Divergent, so I'm obviously going to rank very highly and I'll probably _have_ to take some job like Super-Important Leader or Resident Genius.

"What rank were you?" Pedro asks.

"If you must know... I was first," Forty replies.

Wow, he was first?! I want to beat him. I'll have to come in... um... halfth place! Yeah, that'll work.

"And this is the job you picked?"

Aw, Pedro looks so confused. I'd say he looks like a lost puppy, except I've never met any lost puppies who I want to stick knives into. So he just looks like a lost Pedro.

"Yes."

"But why? Didn't you want to be a leader?"

"No, I like working in the control room," Forty says.

I remember that time in school when we were doing our unit on Army and we learned about the different jobs they have. A lot of them guard this stupid fence or else they work inside the city. I've seen them on patrol a lot of times, making sure everyone obeys the law and/or climbing buildings for fun. Some of the other Army people have jobs within the compound. The exciting job opportunities there including sweeping the floor, cooking various meats, and washing dishes. Some of the other options are working in the tattoo parlor, like Maggie, or being an entertainer of some kind. The more prestigious jobs are where we work for the leaders, which is obviously the best choice for me.

We have to stop walking for a second because a truck is coming through the gates. It must be Rainbow Sparkle Sunshine with a food delivery.

"We're going to have a free period right now," Forty says. "For a few minutes. Just long enough for you to have a side conversation with someone you used to know from your old clique who conveniently happens to be here. Then back to work."

I'm confused by Forty's words at first but then I _do_ see someone I recognize, sitting in the back of the truck. He sees me too and then hops off and walks over. As he gets closer, I realize who it is - Pumpkin's older brother! Shoot, I don't remember his name either. I'll have to just call him Gourd.

"Hello, Beatrix," he greets me.

"Hi," I say.

"What happened to your face?" Gourd asks. "It looks like you've been in a fight."

"Well, _duh_," I reply. I wish my posse members were here to enhance my coolness, but this will have to do for now. "What do you think we do in Army initiation?"

Before Gourd can reply, Manly appears from somewhere. "Did he call you Beatrix?" she asks stupidly. "So is that your real name?"

Gourd looks surprised. "Are you an ogre?" he asks Manly.

"Yes, it's my real name," I say. "I use Trixie as a nickname because I like to get a little funky sometimes. So what?"

"I thought it was short for 'loser'!" Manly jokes and then laughs nasally as she walks away to do something dumb.

"That was a very strange person," Gourd observes. "If she even was one. She didn't confirm whether or not she was an ogre."

"There are a lot of strange people in Army," I admit.

"You could probably go home to Alteration if you wanted. Maybe they'd make an exception for you. Your Hardanger embroidery was always pretty impressive."

I toss my hair. "I don't want to go home." It's true. I didn't have a posse in Alteration. I didn't even really have friends, except for that old guy who used to ask me out every single weekend.

"But you don't seem very happy here," Gourd argues.

"I have things to do other than be happy." I sigh. Sometimes it's just so hard to converse with people who weren't blessed with Divergent minds.

"Oh, well, that's sort of unfortunate." Then Gourd jogs back to the truck and climbs into it. He sits next to some girl, who starts playing an accordion.

For a moment I imagine what it would be like to be with them. I see myself sitting in the truck with them, taking the accordion and throwing it onto the ground so I never have to hear its horrible noises again. I guess I could assemble a new posse in Rainbow Sparkle Sunshine, but I probably wouldn't have an instructor as gorgeous as Forty, and I just wouldn't be able to handle that.

Speaking of Forty, he walks over to me. "What were you doing?"

"I was talking to that boy," I answer.

"I don't know if that was a smart choice."

"Why?"

"Well, because... you know. It just wasn't."

"OK then," I say with a shrug.

"I want to give you some completely unrelated advice right now," Forty tells me.

"Great!"

"You need to learn to attack first. You're fast so if you attack first then you'll have an advantage."

That doesn't seem like such great advice, but I guess I can try to use it. "Thanks," I say halfheartedly.

"Well, it's time to leave now," Forty announces.

"But we didn't do anything," someone protests.

We all ignore that person and then get on the train to leave.

The next day I have to fight again. I'm up against this really weak girl named Tyra, and even though the weapons rack has been permanently removed, I still manage to beat her. Good for me. Later I have a nice dinner of lamb/beef/pork/chicken stew and then get ready to fall asleep. Only before I can, E-Rock shows up in our room and yells at everyone to get up.

"We're going on a field trip!" he shouts.

I don't want to go on a field trip; I want to sleep. My life is so hard.

"You have five minutes to get to the tracks," E-Rock tells us and then leaves.

Everyone jumps up and starts getting ready, which is sort of unfortunate for the initiates who picked this night to sleep in the nude. Well, I end up seeing a lot of things I wish I hadn't, and that helps wake me up. Veronica and I hurry through the Snacketeria and out to the tracks, and we're not the last two people here this time, which is cool. I notice there's a box filled with guns, and that's also different.

"Everyone pick up a gun," E-Rock instructs us.

I get it. He's still disappointed that the weapons rack is gone and now he's going to make us fight each other here and now with these guns. I guess I'm alright with this. Maybe now I'll actually be able to make some crotch-shots. Obviously my first target will be Pedro - taking out my rival Queen Bee will be a great way to extend my authority.

"We're going to be playing Paintball," Forty says.

What the heckie is a paintball? Paint is a liquid, not a solid. It cannot assume a formed shape. Ha ha, my Snobs-R-Us side is showing. Divergent fo' life. I think maybe I misheard Forty and he actually said "painball." That could be, like, some cool new way of saying "bullet," right? Except it's not, because then I see a crate that has a big label saying "PAINTBALLS" on it. OK, fine.

"When will the train be here?" E-Rock asks Forty.

"Three seconds."

I count on my fingers. One, two, three, _four_ seconds go by before the train arrives! I can't believe Forty was wrong. He was obviously just playing a little joke on E-Rock. As I see the train approaching, I decide I want to spend some quality time with Forty so I can make sure he falls in love with me. I hurry up and he helps me onto the train, but before I can start bonding with him, everyone else is there too. Oh well, maybe next time. I also still have no idea what a paintball is, but I guess I'm going to find out.


	7. Chapter 7

I decide to lead the way for my posse and jump into the train before Veronica and Bill can catch up. Forty helps me inside, and I practically start smooching him right then and there, but then a bunch of initiates squeeze into the car so that plan is temporarily ruined.

"We're going to be playing a game now," Forty announces to everyone. "It's called Hide and Seek, Flag Edition. We'll divide into two teams and then each of you will get a flag. You hide yours and then the goal is to get the other team's. E-Rock and I are your captains, of course."

"What do we get if we win?" someone asks.

"A million dollars."

"Really?! Maybe I can finally bail my mother out of prison!"

Forty laughs. "Just kidding, stupid little initiate! You don't get anything. Except for the pride of knowing you won."

I think maybe this is a good time for me to score some brownie points. "Yes, winning is great. I love crushing other people's spirits."

Forty smiles and pats my shoulder. "Trixie has the right attitude."

"But what about my mom's bail?" the other kid asks in tears.

"Why not just file a fraudulent insurance clam?" I suggest. "One of my classmate's parents did that to pay for her Bat Mitzvah." I am such a genius. This idea is a great combination of all my wonderful traits, AKA my aptitude for all factions: it's Alteration, because I'm suggesting an idea to help someone else. It's Army because breaking the law is brave. And it's Snobs-R-Us because most people my age don't even know what an insurance claim is, or what the word 'fraudulent' means. My Divergent brain is such a gift from above, I gotta tell ya.

Annoyingly, E-Rock totally disregards what I said and changes the subject. "Anyway, it's time for us to pick teams now," he announces."I get to go first because I'm too cool for school, and also we're picking from the transfers first because why not add a little more to the tremendous amount of pressure you're already under, am I right? On that note, my first choice will be Oddward."

"I'll take the Stitch," Forty says.

Ha! This is a great day for me. I was Forty's very first choice for a team member, even if he did use a pejorative term to refer to me.

"Ew, why would you pick her?" E-Rock asks. "She's weak, and strength is obviously what matters in a game like this which is realistically based on stealth and requires minimal fighting! You don't have some kind of plot to assemble a team of the nicer, more intelligent initiates, do you?"

"No, no, of course not," Forty answers and gives E-Rock a big innocent smile.

"OK, well, good. In that case my second pick is Pedro."

"I'll take Veronica."

"Manly."

"Bill."

"Aladdin." (AKA Fartface for those of you who forgot, like myself.)

"Dwoo."

"Well, Tyra is the last one left, so I'll take her," E-Rock says.

I'm so happy. Forty did a great job of putting all my posse members on the same team with me. Well, minus Fartface, but he was always the weakest link, anyway. I'm not totally sure about having Dwoo on my team but I guess out of the three people in Pedro's posse he's the least offensive. On the other hand I'd rather have had Oddward or Tyra since they're not affiliated with my rival posse, but whatevs. Forty and E-Rock proceed to choose the rest of their teams from the Army-born initiates, but since I don't know any of them and none of them are hot, I don't pay attention.

"Your team can get off the train second," E-Rock says to Forty.

"No way, Jose! We're getting off first," Forty declares.

"Well, you know what they say. First is the worst, second is the best."

"And third is the one with the treasure chest."

"No, no. It's, third is the one who forgot to get dressed." E-Rock counters.

Forty frowns. "Third is the one in the bulletproof vest."

"Third is the one on house arrest."

"Third is the in the hornet's nest!"

"THIRD IS THE ONE WHO SATAN HAS BLESSED!" E-Rock roars.

There's an awkward silence and then finally Forty asks, "So we're getting off first, right?"

"Yes," E-Rock says.

I glance at Veronica. "What just happened?"

"I don't know," she replies.

We jump off the train, narrowly avoiding some spiky rocks. They look sort of out of place in this part of the city, almost like someone put them there on purpose. If E-Rock wanted to sabotage my team by injuring and/or killing us, it would have been a very strategic way of doing that. But that's not like E-Rock, he's such a kind-hearted person. Though he's not as kind-hearted as Forty. And Forty is way hotter so I'm glad I'm on his team.

"Forty, where do you think we should hide our flag?" asks one of my Army-born team members.

"You guys need to figure that out for yourselves, Merlin."

Huh! It sure was convenient that Forty addressed that girl by her name so I could learn it.

"I can't believe we have an Aladdin and a Merlin this year," someone whispers. "So much magic."

"I have an idea," suggests another Army-born initiate. "Why don't we go to Gravy Pier? That's where I used to hide when my parents tried to force me to watch old home videos with them, so I figure if I can hide there, so can a flag."

Gravy Pier is this really crappy place in post-apocalyptic Chicago where nobody hangs out, but apparently it used to be a fun amusement park back in the day. Sometimes it's hard to believe that people actually enjoyed being here, but then I remember that the world wasn't always this way. I guess it used to be called pre-apocalyptic Chicago, or PAC for short... oh, wait, I already used that.

The other thing about Gravy Pier is that it's not considered especially safe, because there's loads of broken glass, concrete chunks,, and toxic waste everywhere. My dad told me that a long time ago, some of the cliqueless people (who were considered the most expendable) were sent here to clean up a little so that you could still come to Gravy Pier without endangering your life. They built a safe pathway that allows you to travel without coming into contact with any of the bad stuff! But since we're brave Army people, Forty leads us through an area that's covered with broken glass. I wish one of my teammates were barefoot, that would be so entertaining to watch.

To help us see where we're going, Merlin pulls out a flashlight from somewhere and illuminates the path ahead. It's nice because now I can see where all the big pieces of glass are and I can get the pleasure of stomping on them.

"Turn that off," a boy complains.

"Oreo, why would you want to walk in the dark?" Merlin asks.

"It's just that we're Army! We don't need light."

I guess Oreo is right, although I think I once learned in some Biology class that all mammals need light to survive. Wait, was that mammals or plants? Oh well, I guess it doesn't matter. Obviously, being Divergent, I have the correct combination of bravery and intelligence to navigate without light. Thankfully, we make it to the Ferris wheel safely, which I guess has arbitrarily been chosen as our team base/rendezvous place/point at which we all got tired of walking.

"Wow," says Bill. "I can't believe people used to ride this thing."

"Uh huh, so let me great this straight," I say. "We live in a post-apocalyptic world of scarcity and societal coercion, and meanwhile our faction members in particular deliberately expose ourselves to physical harm on a regular basis. And you're afraid of a Ferris wheel?"

"Yeah, don't be a moron, Bill," Veronica adds, backing me up like the loyal posse member she is. "This thing isn't even scary. An Army version of the Ferris wheel wouldn't have seats. You would just have to hang on to the bars."

"Which would be coated with slime," I suggest.

"Or little spikes."

"Hey cretins," Forty says to us. "Don't you think you should be using this head-start we have on the other team to formulate a plan instead of making up fanciful jokes?"

While I'm a little bit creeped out to hear someone from Army use the word 'fanciful,' I have to admit that Forty is right. Bill thinks so too. He grabs the flag out of Forty's hands and declares, "I'm going to supervising our strategy."

"I don't think so," Merlin scoffs and pulls the flag from Bill's grip. "You're not in charge. Plus, you're a transfer, which isn't really relevant in the context of this exercise but it's the best disparagement I can think of at the moment."

"We could try being defensive," Veronica offers. "I've spent most of my life being passive-aggressive, so I have some experience."

"No, that's dumb," Oreo groans. "Obviously we need to hide our flag somewhere expertly. Somewhere that no one would ever dare look."

"Like one of the cliqueless community bathrooms," says Merlin.

"Yeah, but we can't get there now."

"OK, fine. So where should we put the flag, then?"

The rest of my team members start chattering away, everyone trying to talk over one another. If it were just my posse, I'm sure I could easily corral those fools into submission, but there are also the Army-born initiates here, and I don't have any control over them... yet. In any case, I sense now that this is my golden opportunity to get in some bonding time with Forty. He's sitting on another abandoned ride that's next to the Ferris wheel. It's called a horsey-spinny-thing, I think. Wait a second! I have an even better idea. I'll impress him! The best way I can think to do that is by climbing the Ferris wheel. That'll show Forty that I'm brave. I walk over to the wheel and start climbing up the rungs, which I do not think were intended for climbing. I've actually gone up a few before Forty notices.

"Trixie?" he asks from below me.

"Yeah?"

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" I say in an extremely cool voice. If I wasn't holding on to the rung with both hands for dear life, I would toss my hair. "I'm climbing this Ferris wheel."

"Why?"

Oh, good question. I can't tell him the real reason, so I'll have to make something up. "Uh, why, to get to a good vantage point, of course. So I can like, look around."

Forty stares at me for a second. "That's actually a pretty good idea, I'm going to come up there, too."

That was not part of my original plan, but I'll totally take it. A night on an abandoned rotting Ferris wheel with Forty, gazing at the stars and falling oh so deeply in love. He'll most likely propose. Who shall my bridesmaids be? Veronica, Maggie... Merlin, why not? And Pumpkin! I'll probably need to learn her real name before the wedding. And Fartface's too, I guess. Obviously none of the members of my opposing posse will be invited.

Suddenly my thoughts are interrupted by Forty. "So, Trixie, let me ask you something."

Huh, is he already going to ask me to marry him? I guess the guy moves fast. "Yes, what is it?" I say cutely.

"What do you think the point of this exercise is? The game, I mean?"

Well, that's not a marriage proposal. OK. At least he's being funny. "Good question," I say with a chuckle.

"Huh? Oh, that wasn't a rhetorical question."

"It wasn't?"

"No, no. I really want to know, why do you think we're making you play this game? What do you think the goal is?"

"Umm... the importance of... um... loyalty?" I try.

"Loyalty? Why do you say that?"

"Well, because for a team to work together effectively, they have to be loyal to one another. Uh, even if the other team has lots of big and imposing people on it, you still have to stick together." Yeah, that sounded good enough. I grin at Forty. "Oh, and also, you have to be loyal to your clique. Woohoo Army, am I right? Cool!"

"Wow, Trixie, that was pretty profound. Actually, the purpose of this game is because E-Rock likes to breed a sense of competition and resentment among the initiates. That makes for bloodier fights later."

"Oh..."

"Jeez, I really don't like being up this high," Forty says and then whimpers like an injured walrus. "Aren't you afraid?"

"No, not really," I tell him. It's true, I don't think there's anything all that scary about being up here. Sure, I could fall to my death at any time, but I still feel completely safe on this ancient crumbling structure.

"Are you sure?" Forty asks. "I think you could use a little support."

"What do you mean?"

Instead of answering, Forty slides his hand around my waist and steadies me a little. "Is that better?"

Wow! This is so scandalous. I've never been touched, like, _flirtatiously _by anyone before. We're not allowed to in Alteration. There's an old saying there, "No touching makes the wedding more special." I guess Cable and Pumpkin didn't exactly follow that rule, but whatever. At least no one ended up pregnant. Anyway, I keep climbing and make it to a platform that has been helpfully installed among the rungs of the Ferris wheel. I decide to chillax there for a moment, but Forty still doesn't look comfortable. "What's wrong? You're scared?" I ask.

"Yes," he admits.

"Really? Of what? Ferris wheels?"

"No, not that."

I look around. "Um... of the sky?"

"No-"

I clap my hands together. "Wait, I get it! You're afraid of metal! Forty, that's crazy."

"No, Trixie. I'm afraid of heights."

Oh my, Forty has just revealed a personal and intimate fact about himself to me! Our bond grows stronger by the moment! I think I should say something supportive in response. I try to think of what my family would tell me if I were afraid: my mother would say, "It's alright, dear. Mommy's here to protect you." Hmm, that doesn't sound quite right for this situation. My father would say, "Beatrix, fears are selfish. Why aren't you donating something to the cliqueless?" No, that won't work, as Forty isn't in Alteration so he can be as selfish as he wants. Cable would say, "You're scared, huh? Get over it, loser." That sounds like the best option now. "So, Forty," I say. "You're scared of heights, huh? Well, you'd better get over it." I decide to leave the _loser_ part off.

"I do try to ignore it," Forty explains. "But it's hard."

"That's interesting," I reply, not really paying that much attention to his whining. "Do you think we should go higher?"

"What?! No!"

There aren't any more rungs to climb, but I'm pretty sure I can scale the inner workings of the wheel. I would say the chance of me dying has gone up like 20-30% at this point, but I'm not going to stop now. Forty is obviously falling more and more in love with me with each moment we spend on the Ferris wheel together. So I continue moving upwards. "You don't have to come if you're afraid," I tell Forty.

"Yes, I do," he says.

"Why?"

"Because I'm an Army leader," Forty explains. "If you outdo me that means you're braver than I am! And that can't happen."

Oh, so that's the secret. Forty doesn't want to be impressed by me because of his insecure masculine ego. I should have realized! OK, well, I'll have to try something else. Maybe I can go for the damsel in distress role? I've been in distress plenty of times before, and of course I'm a fine and foxy damsel! This will work great. Before I do that, though, I guess I should actually do what I told Forty I was coming up here for. I look around for a minute and I'm surprised when I notice that I actually can see the other team's flag! It's bright, ugly green, unlike my team's which is a gorgeous shade of red. Are these colors supposed to be symbolic? Even I'm not sure. I double-check to make sure I'm actually seeing the flag and not a chunk of toxic waste, but yep, that's it. "Hey, Forty," I say. "Look, I see their flag."

Forty looks around. "Where? I don't see it. Are you lying to me, Trixie? Please don't. I've been lied to my whole life."

"No, it's true! Look in that small conspicuous park over there."

Finally Forty is looking in the right direction. "Oh yeah, I see it! Let's go alert your team members."

"Good thinkin," I reply. "But I'd better get down from here first."

"Alright, let's do that." Forty starts climbing downward. He looks happy, I guess because soon we're not going to be so high up.

I start following him down when I put my foot on some weak piece of the Ferris wheel and it decides to break in half. I find myself hanging on to a rung. "Oh no!" I scream. This is the scariest thing in my life! I'm so high off the ground! I hope I don't slip and crash to my death, but I'm not sure how much longer I can hold on.

"Don't worry!" Forty yells. "I have an idea!"

What is he doing? I'm not sure how much longer I can hang on. This is starting to get ridiculous, honestly. I wanted to be the damsel in distress, not the damsel in dis... uh... hang on, I'm trying to think of some pun about death. Dead-sel in distress? Um... this is hard! I don't know. OH, I've got something! Damsel in _die-_stress! Not bad, eh?

"Trixie!" Forty yells again just as I've come up with an acceptable play on words.

"Yeah, what do you want?" I ask, annoyed that he's interrupted my thoughts. Then I remember that I'm hanging on to a Ferris wheel for dear life and I don't feel so irritated.

"Look! It's safe to jump down!"

What? How could it be safe to jump from here? I glance down at the earth and see what Forty has done - he's used the natural flora of the area to create a cushion for me to land on! And by natural flora, I mean filled trash bags. I count to three in my mind and then let go of the Ferris wheel, landing in the pile of trash bags with a _poomf_ noise. I think I might have sprained my ankle, or possibly my entire lower body, but hey, at least I'm alive!

"Phew," Forty says with relief. "That was lucky. I was like 60-40 on it not working."

We go back to the horsey-spinny-thing, where the rest of my team has decided to hang out for some reason. Veronica jumps up when she sees me. "I'm so glad you're not dead," she says. "Again." Then she gives me a fist-bump to congratulate me for not dying.

"Why were you up there, anyway?" asks an Army-born initiate. "That was incredibly dangerous."

"Ugh, who cares about safety?" I snort. "Besides, I was getting a bird's eye view of Gravy Pier so I could find out where the other team's flag is. _Which I did._"

"That's cool, but... I don't think it was very smart to risk your life just so you could win a game."

I sigh. If only this fool knew that I'm _totally_ smart, because unlike her I'm Divergent, which means... OK, I don't remember exactly. It means that I could have also chosen to be in Snobs-R-Us, right? Why didn't I choose that again...? Oh, yeah, because they bathe more than once a month. I could never associate with such greedy people, no matter how intelligent they claim to be! I'm sticking to my principles, good for me.

"Anyway, let's go get their flag now," Forty declares.

"Great!" says a different Army-born kid. "What's the plan?"

"I'll let Trixie decide on that," Forty answers.

"Why? Aren't you supposed to be our team captain?" asks Merlin.

"Yes, but this is a very convenient time for Trixie to show off her intelligence and have some sort of personal revelation about Army initiation."

"Oh."

I rack my brain. _Remember, Trixie, you're a genius,_ I think to myself. "OK!" I announce. "Here's what we're gonna do. Their flag is hidden in the park. So let's split up into two groups. One of them will make an offensive attack and while the other team is distracted, the second group will sneak in and grab the flag." Hey, that's pretty good, and I just pulled it out of thin air. Who knew I was so talented at thinking on my feet? Well, guess what - I'm great at thinking while sitting down, too! Ha ha! See, that's another play on words, just like damsel in _die _-stress! Am I on fire today or what?

"I guess that's a reasonable plan," one of my team members comments.

Veronica looks at me surprised. I guess she didn't realize that I have an incredible gift for strategizing. I'll tell her about my gift for pun-making later. "So are you guys ready to do this?" I ask, energized.

"Sure, I guess," someone replies.

"OK! On the count of three, we'll go!" I bark. "One, two, three, BREAK!"


End file.
